


unremovable, irrevocable

by gabriphales



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Humiliation, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Rape/Non-con Elements, Unreliable Narrator, anyways more vent fic from urs truly, for some of it lol, the perspective shifts halfway thru oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:49:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26487451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabriphales/pseuds/gabriphales
Summary: gabriel envies aziraphale and crowley's idyllic life in the south downs. he finds prey in the garden, and wets his teeth with blood
Relationships: Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 37





	unremovable, irrevocable

he looks so soft lying there, guarded by hyacinths and clove. tiny meadow flowers springing up at his sides, outlining a silhouette around his body, like chalk at a crime scene. blooming petals spread with every fragile breath. he's bringing life to his surroundings, gasping out little puffs of air that tingle through the breeze like wind chimes. and he's gorgeous - he's _gorgeous._

gabriel finds the garden's gate all too easy to open. if not him, if not now, then soon enough somebody else would take advantage of the opportunity given. a roguish demon, filled with malice and spite. they'd sour the pure dirt ground, leave rotting holes of iron filth behind, flushing green grass pale and strawlike. gabriel only wants to find love here. gabriel is only tired of being denied.

aziraphale barely stirs with the approaching footsteps. when gabriel cups a hand under his head, runs fingers through downy soft curls, he whines in his sleep. helpless, vulnerable. submissive at last, willing to allow anything gabriel might desire. and gabriel _does_ desire. quite achingly so, to be exact.

and he kisses him. and he kisses him. and he kisses and kisses and _kisses_ him until his lips go smooth and doughy, until they taste of shared spit, until the breathing swallows hot air, and aziraphale gasps awake.

the effect is immediate; his body thrashes beneath gabriel, a unifying twist and turn that only serves to bring them closer together. gabriel's tongue breaches his mouth, licks inside to the sweltering roof, deep enough to gag him. aziraphale cries out, makes a noise swollen with fear, indignation, _shock._

he doesn't deserve to fight gabriel off. he's already given so much to the enemy, offered love with open arms to the spawn of satan, the dirtiest of creatures. repulsive, revolting, taking pity on what he must believe can be saved. he's always been like that, so willing to keep room for the sour roots that ought to be clipped at their stem. never the soldier, always the lamb. a sword with dull edges, marred into something less than a butter knife.

if he's so open to all things gruesome and grisly, surely he can allow gabriel one improper pleasure. his silky skin trembling underneath every touch, baby blues a pool of shrouding grey. the black of each pupil thins down with terror, and gabriel finds he's never looked so beautiful. not once, even in his whole life of beauty.

it's cruel to keep such things on display, without ever allowing wandering hands to touch, to grasp, to _feel_ every inch of a sinewy, supper's worth body. gabriel deserves him, he deserves this. and he'll be nothing but gentle, nothing but kind. surely, a demon would find heat inside him, send crashing waves of flame that scourge a sweet pink interior. gabriel will take care of him, show him how this ought to be done. he won't want anyone else by the time he's done with him. he'll be dependent, needy, _begging_ for extended company.

he wants this. he just doesn't know it yet.

"hold your breath," gabriel tells him, keeping his wrists pinned to the ground. "it'll feel better that way."

aziraphale tries to buck against him, writhing like a wild deer, the fawn caught in wolf teeth. he's making quite the show of himself, a darling little spectacle. but gabriel can't have him drawing too much attention to this. who _knows_ how his wretched demon might interfere.

a sharp smack to the face is all it takes, raw and red across his cheek. glistening like pink clouds in a sunset, the dusting of blood vessels expanding to shriek out against pain, against ferocity. a body so sensitive as his can't handle a demon. somehow he hasn't realized that yet.

gabriel will just have to reinforce the point.

"don't be scared," he murmurs, syrup-toned with a honey tongue, gripping aziraphale by his jaw. "i'll be gentle with you, it won't hurt, it won't hurt at all. just let me in, you'll be so pretty like that. i know you will, _know_ you will - don't you want to be pretty, aziraphale?"

aziraphale stares up at him with a dead, hopeless expression. a cored apple, a peach without its pit, there's nothing inside him now to keep him feeling real. he's gone empty. gabriel can fill him back up.

he strips him of his waistcoat, tears the buttons of his undershirt clean off. everything pops free, aside from that final button locked at his shirt collar, protected by a tartan bow. so precious, so quaint. gabriel decides he looks better that way anyways.

"can i touch you here?" he asks, not waiting for an answer before groping at aziraphale's chest. clutching and squeezing, watching ripe flesh meld to his fingers. "oh, they're so lovely, aziraphale. so _big,_ you've got such perfect tits."

" _no,_ " aziraphale sniffles, wet and congested, coughing pitifully, "please, please don't - not like that."

"i want you _exactly_ like this," gabriel corrects him. "and you'll let me have it."

aziraphale whimpers, but goes entirely still. gabriel rewards him with another kiss, savoring how aziraphale's lips can react to his own now. tense and quivering, an unlit match just waiting to be burned. gabriel presses his fingers into easy, malleable flesh. it curves beneath his grasp, caving to the tune of every squirming, clawing, _scrambling_ digit. 

"stop," aziraphale whispers, so faint it's a marvel the words breach air whatsoever. gabriel yearns, if only for a second, to cover that open mouth. to feel aziraphale wrestle away, wrenching his head from side to side in a helpless, vain debacle. what a wonder it would be, to have his tiny body go limp once more, completely stilled at gabriel's demand. suffocated in dopamine and splendor, consumed by the sort of bliss only a slipping consciousness can deliver.

but he reclines himself to a softer grip, ensuring aziraphale stays with him for as long as this lasts. wouldn't want him to miss out, after all.

"what have you got down here for me?" gabriel asks, dragging aziraphale's trousers down to his ankles, bunching corduroy in wrinkled scrunches. aziraphale tries to twist his thighs together, tightly clenched, but it's no use. gabriel is far stronger, far more capable of doing _worse_ , and aziraphale knows that. when gabriel parts his legs with a careful, soothing touch, it only serves as a warning to contrast what might be brought upon aziraphale, should he misbehave.

"oh? how cute," gabriel exclaims, palming over the front of aziraphale's panties, feeling up where he's gone wet with unwanted slick. the slide of it makes him nauseated, how easily the fabric slips across his skin, brushing into his clit. his stomach churns, swimming in shiprocked bile. he doesn't want this, doesn't like it, but his body's reacting regardless. tears well at his eyes, dribble down in uniform pattern, and gabriel takes the time to wipe them clean before divesting his final scrap of modesty.

"look at that," gabriel says, swiping his fingers up through aziraphale's folds. "you're so soft here, feels all squishy." 

he pinches at his labia, hard enough to bruise, and aziraphale yelps - flinching backwards.

"did that hurt? i'll make it better." gabriel assures him, cupping the mound of his cunt in one hand, and rubbing, making him even _softer._

"no," aziraphale starts to crack inwards, the first bursts of a swollen dam overflowing with fear. now that he's said it, he doesn't think he can ever stop again. repeating the phrase like holy scripture, a thankless prayer, "no, no, no, no, _nonono_ \- "

gabriel frowns. though it's polite, tight-lipped and forgiving, aziraphale still knows better than to continue on rambling. fingers snap, a fly comes unzipped. gabriel's trousers sink to his knees. they'll be stained by the dirt, left with imprints of brown and green to commemorate what he's about to do - what he's about to take.

aziraphale's body reacts like it's been pierced. as if he were struck between the legs with a needle, sharp, solid pain splitting him open, tearing at flesh and scratching up his insides. he sobs, his cunt contracts fiercely, only sucking gabriel in further. hot, firm and deep inside him, weighing him down from his very core, sending waves of nausea up to his stomach. every thrust, every curving rut of his hips seems to overcrowd aziraphale, hitting something that feels rather like it ought not be touched. his cervix, he realizes with a distant, scientific approach. it's easy to diagnose symptoms from a distance, catch winds of illness without tempting a cold, and even now, aziraphale finds he'd rather be on the other side of the glass, watching himself be watched. 

"do you like it?" gabriel insists on dragging him into the present. "do you like this? like me?"

his hands wrench in aziraphale's hair, ripping curls by the strand as he forces aziraphale to meet his eye. "tell me you like this. tell me you're mine, mine to use, mine to have whenever i want."

aziraphale feels like he's rotting into the ground, compost for the worms and maggots. "i like it, i'm yours." 

there's bile in his mouth as he says it. gabriel doesn't care enough to notice.

"good boy," he whispers, speaking as a tender lover might, in the hushes tones of lazy embrace pillow talk. "too ditzy to do anything else, yeah? you're best for me on your back, legs spread, showing off all your prettiest parts."

and it's humiliating, it's dirty, he's never felt so torn from his body before. sick to his stomach, the agonized, icy burn of tugging vomit curling up to his throat, not yet daring to spill over. he doesn't want to be used for this, doesn't want to be only good for - _only good for_ \- dear god. but gabriel's right, isn't he? all the others think it too. _pathetic excuse for an angel._

_open your mouth, get on your knees._

_be good in the only way you can._

"gonna fill you up, darling." gabriel says. "just hold still for me, keep it all in."

aziraphale listens - what else can he do? wet softness licks out of his sore entrance, dripping down onto the ground below. the same ground he'd picked flowers from with crowley only weeks prior. the same ground they'd made love atop for the first time, in sweet summer twilight, surrounded by fireflies.

crowley had teased him for how cliche it had been at the time. aziraphale wishes, wishes more than anything, that he could go back to that.

but gabriel lays over him even after his body works out its last shudders. gabriel kisses him like he has any right to. and gabriel doesn't leave until aziraphale's lost to sleep once more, praying the peace of it into existence.

he isn't sure how to tell crowley. he isn't sure if he really deserves to.

(why would god have let it happen if he didn't deserve it?)

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is @enricks


End file.
